


heights and hats

by boom_goes_the_canon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hats, Height Differences, M/M, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_goes_the_canon/pseuds/boom_goes_the_canon
Summary: “I am mad at you, Marius,” Courfeyrac announces as he enters the room. “I thought you should know.”Marius barely looks up from his book, which is not at all the reaction Courfeyrac was hoping for. No marvel of the written word should hold Marius’ attention better than Courfeyrac can. “What did I do?”“You, my dear Marius, are simply too tall.”
Relationships: Courfeyrac/Marius Pontmercy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	heights and hats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



“I am mad at you, Marius,” Courfeyrac announces as he enters the room. “I thought you should know.”

Marius barely looks up from his book, which is not at all the reaction Courfeyrac was hoping for. No marvel of the written word should hold Marius’ attention better than Courfeyrac can. “What did I do?”

Courfeyrac sighs, sits down next to his infuriating, annoying, frustrating, needlessly attractive friend, and lays a hand on his shoulder. Marius is warm, probably from remaining cooped up in their rooms all day in front of a fire he hasn’t bothered to stoke. “You, my dear Marius, are simply too tall.”

Marius sputters, which is a much more appropriate response. “Excuse me?”

“It is not your fault, of course; that I will wholly concede.” Courfeyrac pauses to take a breath and enjoy the sight of Marius’ flustered face. “It is simply rather eye-catching in a crowd. No matter how well I dress or how well-tied my cravat is, it is simply useless if my friend is towering over me like a—a badly-dressed specter of the past and hoarding everyone’s attention.”

“I do _not_ hoard everyone’s attention,” Marius says, with every appearance of distress. “I do not intend to do so. I would be quite content if no one paid me any attention whatsoever!” He even stands up, continuing to underscore Courfeyrac’s point. No one should be that tall and that handsome at the same time, and it is a good thing that Marius has a truly atrocious fashion sense to make up for it.

“My deepest sympathies for your wretched situation,” Courfeyrac says, and they don’t mention it for the rest of the evening.

-

“There you are, my regrettably tall friend!”

“Hello, Courfeyrac.” Marius permits himself a small smile. He had gotten the hat at Prouvaire’s recommendation earlier this day and paid a very moderate price for the gloriously bedazzled and befeathered article. People had been staring at him all day, most likely because they recognized and respected his superior fashion sense. “Notice anything different?”

“Your hat? I saw from the next street over.” Courfeyrac gives him a sugary-sweet smile, and Marius’ heart leaps in his chest. “Let’s go back home, shall we?”

Marius agrees, and they set off immediately. They don’t go arm-in-arm, because the last time they tried, Marius knocked Courfeyrac’s hat off with his chin and they had to chase it through the city streets. Courfeyrac walks him quickly through the streets, looking everywhere but up at Marius’ head.

“Whatever drove you to purchase that horrible thing?” Courfeyrac hisses, as soon as they shut the door behind them. “It looks like an exotic creature sprung out of the sky and attempted to swallow your head.”

“You thought my previous hat was unfashionable, so I thought I might surprise you.” Marius flushes. “Was I wrong?”

“I…appreciate the sentiment, really, I do” Courfeyrac says softly. “But you chose the most horrendous hat that has ever existed, my friend.”

Marius’ heart drops to somewhere near stomach level. “Truly?”

“I fear I may never recover from the sight of it. I shall take to my bed and you shall have to hatlessly nurse me back to health.”

“Oh no,” Marius says dryly, as Courfeyrac feigns scandalized gasps and swoons. “However will you survive.”

“Fortunately, there is an easy cure for my condition. I hereby declare your hat a medical emergency and must confiscate it for immediate disposal and purging.” Courfeyrac makes a leap for his hat, and Marius, fearing the worst, grabs his hat and holds it up, above Courfeyrac’s reach.

“That is not fair at all.” He climbs on the sofa and makes another mad leap for the hat. His shoes skitter on the floor and he glares up at Marius. “A thousand curses for your absurdly long limbs.”

“I’m keeping the hat,” Marius says, suddenly struck with a bolt of inspiration. “I’ll hang it on a peg out of your reach and you’ll never be able to get rid of it.”

“Broomsticks exist, as do absurdly tall revolutionaries who I am very good friends with. I’ll get that hat of yours yet.” And Courfeyrac makes another futile grab in the general direction of his head.

“I think you won’t,” Marius says boldly, and he goes to put the hat on a peg.

-

Courfeyrac scrambles to make room on the couch at the sight of Marius’ despondent face. “What happened?”

Marius gulps, loosening his cravat and flinging himself on the couch in his most woebegone manner. “Combeferre.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Courfeyrac scrambles to sit up and press a kiss to Marius’ forehead, and get him a glass of something bracing. “How bad was it?”

“Very bad.” Marius drains the glass in one swallow, and mutely presses it back into Courfeyrac’s hands. Courfeyrac pours him another glass. “I think Enjolras laughed at me as well.”

“Enjolras laughs at many things. Don’t let his reputation fool you.”

“But it was at me. He looked me straight in the eyes and…” Marius downs the glass again. “…and he chuckled.”

Courfeyrac considers the veracity of that statement. “Well, I do both of those things on a regular basis, and you’ve never gotten into this sort of state over me. I am a touch offended; I don’t mind confessing.”

Marius seems to have rallied after the third glass, because he draws himself up straight and frowns. “That’s not true.”

“What is?”

“You said you look me in the eye. You don’t.” Marius hiccups a little, and warmth blooms in Courfeyrac’s chest. “You’re too small.”

Courfeyrac gasps. “You take that back.”

Marius stands up, swaying. “Well, you are. If you stand up, you’ll prove my point.”

Courfeyrac stands up. He was never one to back down from a challenge. He stands on tiptoe and puts one hand on Marius’ head to tilt his head down. “See, easy.”

“You’re cheating.”

“Am not,” Courfeyrac says, nearly toppling over.

-

Marius’ new translations aren’t going well. Courfeyrac, who had promised to stay up with him until at least one of the articles were finished, is yawning undisguisedly at his side, curled up with his feet tucked with Marius’ for maximum warmth.

“Are you almost finished?”

“Halfway,” Marius replies, leaning his head on top of Courfeyrac’s. “Just a few more minutes.”

Courfeyrac, instead of complaining or kicking up a fuss the way he is wont to do when Marius comes home late or purchases a perfectly serviceable hat or coat, just clears his throat and nods. His curls smell faintly of the pomade he has attempted in vain to apply to Marius’ own hair, and he snuggles up to Marius, muttering about stubbornness and pride, and Marius’ train of thought is immediately derailed in extremely inappropriate and confusing directions.

“Is something the matter?” Courfeyrac asks, probably because he realized that Marius had frozen in place and isn’t making any progress. “Is the article that boring?”

“I don’t understand it,” Marius says, finally. “I think I need to go to bed.” And think about his extremely inappropriate and confusing thoughts for the rest of the night.

-

Courfeyrac awakens on Saturday to find a roaring fire in the fireplace, the curtains drawn and Marius’ shadow looming over him, clearing his throat, or possibly coughing from the smoke.

“Are you following in my footsteps, Marius? Have you finally realized that setting things on fire is a spectacular and stylish way to get your point across?” He sits up in bed, the better to crane his neck at Marius’ face.

“Um, I was actually making breakfast.” Marius coughs again. “Attempting to make breakfast. I hope you like raw eggs over burnt toast. And ah, scalded tea.”

“Anything would taste wonderful if you made it,” Courfeyrac says, trying to inject a little humor into the situation. It does not pan out, and he’s left staring at the shadow covering Marius’ face, trying to ignore the shiver running down his spine. “Ah, I believe you said something about breakfast?”

“Bad breakfast.”

“Nonsense. Bring forth the food.”

Marius lights the lamp before he brings over the food, and Courfeyrac gasps.

“You dressed properly!” he crows. “You actually dressed properly!”

“Fashionably,” Marius corrects, idly tugging at his brilliantly colored waistcoat.

“Properly,” Courfeyrac says, gleefully. He stands up, pulls Marius closer, examining the cut of his coat and his curls. “And you even curled your hair! This is a miracle of epic and unprecedented proportions. Marius, I could kiss you.”

He can practically feel Marius freeze under his gaze, and he slowly unclenches the hand on his sleeve. “Ah, I didn’t mean that,” he says. “Forget I said anything.”

“Well, you could if you wanted to,” Marius blurts.

“Pardon?”

“You could kiss me.” Marius shifts closer. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I can’t. You’re too tall.”

“Shut up,” Marius says. “I can sit down.” And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](https://saucy-boy.tumblr.com/post/633189991301955584/cannot-stop-thinking-about-courfius-height)!


End file.
